


Changing Seasons

by hollowes



Series: Fumblings [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Local Woman Rewrites Beloved TV Show That Everyone Hates, Two moms and not gay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7009324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowes/pseuds/hollowes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, when she couldn't sleep, when the empty spaces of her apartment suffocated her, she sat on her sofa and watched a documentary. That's how she learned what a hypnic jerk was, and that's the closest descriptor to what she felt when the door to 108 Mifflin Street swung open. When Regina scooped Henry into her arms, when the hurt shot across her eyes at Henry's dismissal, when she turned her eyes towards Emma, dark like pitch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>You're Henry's birthmother?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Seasons

Emma could never put her finger on the emotion she felt on her 28thbirthday.

On the surface, she feels like she should be resentful. Resentful of the fiddlings of fate jerking her around. Of a feeling in her gut, the same feeling that woke her up this morning, before her alarm, like inevitability, like a less cool version of a Hogwarts letter 17 years late. Of the role every motherfucking atom in the universe played to bring a little boy to her doorstep. Of _I'm your son_ pounding the blood behind her eyes and sucking the moisture from her mouth. Of never being taken by surprise by men twice her size, but completely blindsided by a 5 thgrader.

  
  


Emma was never much for school, but she's pretty sure 5th graders aren't supposed to threaten to lie to the police, but okay.

  
  


The drive to Storybrooke, Maine made her feel no better. A dissonance blurred her vision, trying to reconcile this precocious, goddamn audacious kid with the squirming bundle of almost nothing she gave away. What Emma remembers most of all was his weight in her arms, and his warmth against her sternum. She doesn't remember his face because her eyes were wet, but some days she thinks she should have held him longer, maybe 10 years longer.

  
  


He, _Henry,_ talked excitedly about fairy tales, about evil queens, about Prince Charming and Snow White, about curses, about _fate,_ flipping through a book about half his size like it's a Bible or some shit, and Emma is pretty sure none of this is normal. She thinks about heredity, about the condition of people who abandon children on the side of the road, and wonders if the only curse here is less poisonous apples and more encoded in the DNA. A treachery of genetics that skipped past her and swirled into the baby in her womb.

  
  


Emma squeezes the steering wheel against the feeling roiling in her stomach, growing more violent every mile they come closer to Storybrooke, and by the time she pulls up in front of that house she's pretty sure Ryan Gosling plus beard restored, the feeling has crawled all the way up her spine, replacing her vertebrae with something liquid and molten and vibrating.

  
  


Once, when she couldn't sleep, when the empty spaces of her apartment suffocated her, she sat on her sofa and watched a documentary. That's how she learned what a _hypnic jerk_ was _,_ and that's the closest descriptor to what she felt when the door to 108 Mifflin Street swung open. When Regina scooped Henry into her arms, when the hurt shot across her eyes at Henry's dismissal, when she turned her eyes towards Emma, dark like pitch.

  
  


_You're Henry's birthmother?_

  
  


Yeah, a hypnic jerk. Falling sensation and all.

  
  


-

  
  


Over a glass of apple cider Emma tries to be gentle. Gentle about whatever shortcomings she passed on to Henry. _I mean, this is crazy_ she strains, her hands wringing together. Even while trying to do the right thing for Henry she failed, it's engrained in her roots.

  
  


That, of course, is the second time she gets played. The menacing twinkle in Regina's eye that she knew all along Henry was eavesdropping. This is still crazy, she hasn't forgotten that, but twice within 24 hours has her ego fuming.

  
  


-

  
  


Emma ends up staying, because she's suspicious she tells herself. Because something isn't right. Or probably because somebody wants her here, with his whole heart, and as much as she might shake a disgruntled fist at _fate,_ she made a wish while staring forlornly at a candle on top of a mediocre cupcake. It's also Emma running. Running from her job of slamming scumbags into steering wheels and running from her apartment with too many cold corners.

  
  


Emma stays because even though Regina looks at her like she wants to drown her in a tar pit, and smiles at her with a mouth like a split wound, the tremble in her hands were never from fear.

  
  


Emma stays and Regina drops all pretenses of being okay with Emma staying or existing or even the vague concept of Emma as a possibility, and Emma naturally rises to the challenge. Snagging a job as deputy and flirting with Graham to pass the time, because that jawline is no joke, while she and Regina snipe back and forth. Regina is razor sharp, so Emma feels no shortage of petty glee when she's being irritating enough for a certain vein to make its appearance along Regina's forehead.

  
  


When Graham has to step down as sheriff for a heart condition that lands him in the ER, Emma leaps at the opportunity. Nobody has ever called Emma Swan ambitious, but the set of Regina's mouth solidifies her resolution like industrial strength epoxy. Emma, who would be voted Least Likely To End Up In A Position of Authority in a high school yearbook, ends up in a position of authority as Storybrooke's sheriff, and is slightly disappointed at the lack of babies she had to kiss.

  
  


That night, her first step as newly elected sheriff is to break into Regina's office and steal her wireless mouse dongle.

  
  


When she's not sullying the good name of Storybrooke's law enforcement department, she sees Henry. He insists on seeing her against Regina's wishes. Emma feels guilty encouraging this kind of behavior, because even though Regina's unforgiving streak towards Emma is miles wide, her love for Henry permeates from every inch of her body. But Henry finds her, and besides the talk about fairy tales and sleeping curses or whatever, he's a regular kid. Emma remembers a foster brother fondly ruffling her hair, and tries to work up the courage to ruffle Henry's, but only manages a brief brush against the hair on his forehead.

-

Loneliness, Emma found, makes the world seem small. Here in Storybrooke, a town not even a third the size of Boston, living in a cramped apartment with Mary Margaret, she feels her lung expand, unrestrained. The cold corners that usually lurked in her peripheral are now full of Mary Margaret, grading homework and drinking tea in the living room. They're full of Ruby bounding up to her and excitedly asking her if she wants to go for drinks on the weekend. They're full of Henry, sneaking into the sheriff's office to see her. They're full of Regina, whirling in to accuse Emma of breaking into her office, of not filing her paperwork on time, of eating too many fucking bearclaws, and Emma winks and smiles rakishly in return. She doesn't soon forget the baffled expression Regina couldn't hide.

  
  


-

  
  


After one particular night when she had a little too much to drink, when her feelings were brimming particularly brightly, she mentions a little too much to Ruby. It's probably a mistake, judging by the way Ruby's eyebrows practically launch off her face and her smile is huge and she yelps _I fucking knew it!_ really loudly. Emma can't bring herself to regret it. She's never had a friend close enough to share secrets with, and beyond that whole fuck-up with Neal, nobody has been in her orbit long enough for Emma to blurt out drunk confessions.

  
  


As they leave the bar and stumble home, Ruby snags a flower from somebody's yard and shoves it in Emma's hand. _There's only one way to find out if she likes you back. Oh, don't give me that look, Emma. It's practically peer-reviewed. Bet you the last flower petal will say_ _'she wants you at a 90 degree angle at your earliest convenience Miss fucking Swan.' I bet you, I have a sense about these things, Ems. I'm a hound dog. A hound dog specializing in sniffing out contraband sexual frustration. … No, wait, forget that, that sounds weird, let's think of something else._

  
  


So Emma and Ruby sit on the curb plucking flower petals, and Emma mixes up her she-loves-me and she-loves-me-nots and blacks out a little, until she realizes she's holding a petal, and there's one left on the flower, and she's pretty sure “she loves me” was the last thing she said. They're both still for a moment, until Ruby grabs the flower and tosses it across the street, and Emma carefully tucks the petal she's holding in her breast pocket.

  
  


The following Monday, she breaks into Regina's office again and returns the wireless dongle, placing it in the middle of Regina's desk, on top of the flower petal.

  
  


-

  
  


Emma's discomfort at Henry's coldness towards Regina comes to a head when, at 11:47pm, Emma answers the door to her apartment and finds Henry, wearing a backpack and a triumphant grin.

  
  


She tries to explain, while Mary Margaret makes him a cup of hot chocolate, that Henry can't run away from home. That no matter what he thinks about Regina, she loves him. She loves him in a way Emma only dreamed of being loved when she was Henry's age. Henry starts again with his mom being the evil queen and Emma clenches her fist and squeezes her eyes shut.  _Henry, stop now,_ she whispers, and walks into her room to dial Regina's number.

  
  


Henry is downcast when she drops him off, keeping a respectful distance while Regina holds him and in the next moment speaks to him sternly. She's exacerbating the situation by letting Henry visit her, by talking with him and keeping his visits from Regina. She feels guilty and ashamed, and thinks that finally feeling important to someone isn't a reason to strain a family like this.

  
  


Emma turns to leave, and probably about to consider Leaving in general, when Regina's voice calls her. She speaks stiffly and probably as politely as she can when faced with the bane of her life. Regina thanks her for calling, and says,  _It seems Henry will not be deterred. And... it seems_   _my actions will sooner cause me to lose my son._ Regina clenches her jaw. Emma feels a sensation, sudden and hot, a current that sparks at her fingertips, lurching out to touch Regina, to hold her hand and touch her brow and kiss the breath from her lungs. She almost misses the stilted invitation to dinner, and completely misses the searching look from Regina as Emma cradles her hand, absently squeezing the sensation from her fingers.

  
  


It's hard, at first. Emma is dressed like she made an effort and sitting at the dinner table with Regina and Henry, and it's more stress than Emma has felt in years. She would have thought, on her way over, smoothing out her best shirt and her nicest jeans, that Regina would be the main source of friction. That she wouldn't be able to contain her barbs, and Emma, also poor in the self-control department, would have no choice but to barb back, with Henry caught in the middle. But it's Henry that's the problem. He stubbornly refuses to listen, he picks at his food, he sulks about Emma acting friendly towards his mom, and finally, after a firm reprimand from Regina for kicking at the leg of the table, shouts  _I don't care! You're evil!_ and runs from the table. Emma glances at Regina, whiteknuckled around her cutlery, looking hurt and angry and resigned.

  
  


She's been known to act without thinking, so she doesn't see anything wrong at first with launching herself away from the table and marching up the stairs without asking, until she realizes she has no idea which room is Henry's. She finds herself angrily opening 5 separate doors, and how many rooms does a person need, fucking really, until she finds Henry, sitting on his bed cradling his book.

  
  


He looks at Emma like she's never been looked at before, like somebody worth looking up to, like she's some kind of hero, and the selfish parts of her ache as she sits down next to Henry and says, as firmly as she can muster, _Henry, you need to apologize to your mom. That was a really messed up thing you said._

  
  


Henry argues, _I know you don't believe me Emma, but it's all true! You're the savior and you have to defeat her!_

  
  


Emma reaches up and runs her fingers through Henry's hair. She sits in silence and watches him flip through his book, tracing the pictures on the page.  _Besides,_ he says quietly,  _she's the Evil Queen, that means she doesn't really love me. It's fake._

  
  


_Henry,_ Emma pauses long enough for Henry to look at her,  _I've met lots of people who will talk a lot about love, they talk a lot but never show it. They leave, or they forget about you, or worse, they hurt you._

  
  


She stops and gathers her thoughts. _If this is true,_ Emma taps at the book, _if your mom is the Evil Queen, she isn't acting like it. Henry, your mom doesn't like me, but she cooked me dinner, because of you. Because she doesn't want to lose you. She's trying. When people love you, when they really love you, they're willing to try things for you even if it makes them uncomfortable, because it makes you happy. You can't throw love like that away, not because of a book._ She gingerly touches an illustration. _I don't know about any of this, but if there ever was an Evil Queen, I don't know how much of her is left._

  
  


Henry stares at Emma, and then goes back to pensively tracing his book. _But, she's done bad things, Emma._

  
  


Emma worries at the corner of a page. _A lot of people do bad things. Heck, even Superman!_

  
  


Henry looks surprised. _Superman?_

  
  


_Yeah, kid! Haven't you ever read the Injustice comics? Red Son? Batman wore that stupid hat._

  
  


Henry gives Emma a _duh_ sort of look. _Emma, I'm ten._

  
  


Emma sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. _Oh, right. A little out of your age range._

  
  


_My point is, the people who go through life never having hurt anybody are rare. Sometimes... you hurt people because you're angry, or as revenge, or because you're sad and don't know how to express your sadness, or by total accident. Not saying that it's okay, and sometimes people can't forgive that, because they got hurt really bad. And that's fair. But, if somebody is trying really hard to be a better person, it can make forgiveness and... redemption, I guess, a little easier. Nobody deserves forgiveness just because they're trying, but it isn't the worst thing to give someone another chance._

  
  


Emma lets the silence settle, and waits.

  
  


_Okay,_ Henry says. It isn't an acceptance of what Emma said, but she can see it crunching around in his head. She feels proud, and a surge of affection for him. She's so glad for Regina, to have raised her kid into such a bright and thoughtful person. Emma smiles and ruffles all the neatness out of his hair.

  
  


_Though that doesn't mean you should take advantage of your mom trying. Probably don't ask to have me over every day._ Henry cracks a smile and Emma grins. _That also means you have to do something nice for your mom. Love works both ways, Henny._

  
  


Henry scrunches his nose at the nickname and Emma grins wider.

  
  


_Hennybenny. HenHen. Hey, what came first the Hen or the egg?_ Emma makes an exaggerated chuckling sound as Henry groans and throws the book aside.

  
  


_Emma, that doesn't even make sense. Can we go back downstairs?_

  
  


She nods and her cheeks hurt from how hard she's smiling.

  
  


-

  
  


Emma doesn't really know what she expected after that first dinner, and she tried to not be too hopeful. Being completely in love with the son she gave up for adoption and also very in _something_ with her son's goddamn mother was stressful. She knew what the _something_ was but admitting it would probably lead to even more stress, so she routinely told her feelings to shut the hell up when she caught glimpses of Regina, all power suits and pumps and put together with great hair. _Shut up!_

  
  


What she gets is an invitation to dinner once every two weeks. Occasionally, Regina will bring Henry to the station after school, and Emma and Henry would talk (in fairness, it was Henry talking and Emma trying to keep the fuck up). Regina would sit back and watch them quietly. Everything is very gradual until it isn't. One day, Emma feeling particularly cheeky, she's being stubbornly contrarian to everything Henry says, until he turns to Regina, exasperated, and says, _mom, what do you think?_

  
  


Emma doesn't make it out of that one alive, because once Regina gets over her surprise, there was no way in hell Emma could survive being double-teamed by the Mills family. That moment turned a hard corner on their interactions, and suddenly it was all three of them laughing and arguing and ribbing. Most people have gaps, have spaces inside of them. Blanks in their hearts that can be fulfilled by all kinds of different things, people, hobbies, maybe jobs. Emma watches Regina playfully poke Henry's side and call him _amorcito lindo,_ and feels the click of pieces locking in. She prays to whoever the fuck is listening that she can be the same. That she can be a piece that clicks in, that she can be good enough to fill the gaps.

  
  


She's probably spacing out, which is probably why a warm hand touches hers. _Emma,_ she hears, but her brain doesn't process it immediately because that voice has never called her _Emma._ That voice is always _Miss Swan_ or just _Swan._ Never _Emma._ The touch feels like touches... don't. It rushes up her arm and between her ribs and molds itself around her heart.

  
  


She flinches and accidentally knocks her cup of coffee down her front. As she rushes to the bathroom to try and clean herself off, she thinks, _fucking hypnic jerks!_

  
  


_-_

  
  


Of all things Emma expects, she doesn't expect Regina. Which, rookie move. She doesn't expect her sticking around longer and longer while not accompanied by Henry. She doesn't expect Regina handing her a small, well-worn cookbook. _Pick two, a meal and dessert._ Emma returns it having triple-underlined an apple turnover recipe and tries to make a case for it. _It's less work for you! Just make double the portions. No wait, triple. For the road. In case I get hungry on the way home._ She's shot down. But once every two weeks turns into twice a week. Dinner turns into dinner and movies on nights that aren't a school night, and invitations to go to the park, and once in a while after like 2 glasses of wine, Regina will insist she's in no shape to drive and Emma sleeps on the couch.

  
  


She makes Regina laugh, which surprises Emma more than anybody. Her laughter is full and delighted, and she touches Emma's wrist and Emma about passes out. She stares at Regina's hand for a long time, a current flooding her nerves with Regina's fingertips as the epicenters, until Regina pulls away and Emma tries to remember to breathe.

  
  


-

  
  


Henry corners her.

  
  


_Do you like my mom?_

  
  


_God, so much._ Emma blurts. She can't even fathom a universe existing where she'd be able to deny it. _So incredibly much. Like... this much._ Emma extends her arms and stretches out her fingertips. _And then times eleventy-billion._

  
  


Henry nods.

  
  


_She's going to need us when the curse breaks and everyone remembers,_ Henry says. _I'm happy that it's the three of us now._

  
  


Henry has been fixated less on fairy tales lately, and Emma still really wants to bring up therapy or something to Regina, but she smiles at Henry and bops his nose. _Me too, kid._

  
  


-

  
  


Loneliness is few and far between now, but sometimes she'll be up when every reasonable person is asleep and insecurities will nag her. Good things don't last for Emma, who is not used to a home that stays, to being wanted enough or good enough to keep. So, she stands in the middle of her apartment and tries to hold the crush at bay, she wishes for Mary Margaret to fuss over her, for Ruby to call her, for Henry to chatter incessantly about whatever new thing he's read or learned. For Regina... for Regina she just aches.

  
  


Emma recognizes her destructive behaviors, and alone in Boston she would have cracked open the hard liquor by now while marathoning Real Housewives. She doesn't now, because what used to be a trench is now more of a fissure. But the loneliness still scratches at her, and in a swell of desperation she texts Regina.

  
  


_You up?_

  
  


She receives a text back almost immediately. _No. Go to sleep._

  
  


Her insecurities sizzle. She doesn't text back.

  
  


She measures and cuts out some paper, because sleep is a slippery fucker and she decided she's going to see what the big deal with origami is. Emma isn't much for tiny, delicate work, and she hopes this origami business will irritate her so much she'll tire herself out. Emma is squinting at the directions when she hears a soft knock on the door.

  
  


She swears to God if it's Henry again-

  
  


But it's not, it's Regina, standing at her front door with an expression that isn't even slightly annoyed. She looks relieved.

  
  


_You didn't answer your phone. I got worried._

  
  


Emma's breath stutters. _Where's Henry?_

  
  


Regina brushes past her into the apartment, she glances at the piles of paper littering the coffee table. _At home, asleep. Good Lord, were you composing a ransom letter? What is all this._

  
  


_Uh, origami._

  
  


_What's this supposed to be?_ Regina inspects something that, upon second revision, looks like a glorified crunched up wad of paper.

  
  


Emma snatches it and pets it. _I don't know, a dog or something. I downloaded a bootleg PDF and I don't think all the instructions were there. You left Henry alone?_

  
  


Her heart speeds up as Regina gives a small shrug. _I left a note in case he woke up. Come on, grab a coat and some clothes so we can go._

  
  


Her brain is scrambling as she throws clothes into an overnight bag. Regina came for her. She didn't even say anything to her but Regina knew, and... and she left Henry alone at the house. Henry, who she puts first above everyone in the entire word, she made an exception. For her. For Emma. She came for her at like 1 in the morning, because Emma didn't answer her fucking phone. _She fucking came for me._

  
  


She gathers up her bag and meets Regina in the living room, who is squinting with confusion at the computer screen. _I didn't realize they made guides for origami... Sasquatch?_

  
  


_I like you,_ Emma says. Her hands are shaking and she thinks her eyes are growing wetter. _I like you a lot. I've liked you since the moment I saw you. You were a jerk and I thought I made a terrible choice. Not a weird choice because I end up liking jerks all the time, but you're really like, an emotional oyster. Just gotta pry a knife in there and shuck you and hope you don't slice off a finger. And you're here, you came for me. I didn't even tell you there was anything wrong and you came. So, I think maybe you like me, too. Considering that about 5 months ago you would have let me die on the side of a road. I don't want to ruin things, and if you don't like me I'll be okay. We'll be okay. I just think that-_

  
  


_Emma._

  
  


Regina is looking at her and her eyes soft and dark. Emma swallows against the lump in her throat.

  
  


_Yes, I like you._ Regina puts her hand against Emma's bicep and encourages her towards the door. _But I would feel a lot better having this conversation back home, where our son is sleeping._

  
  


The words 'our son' and 'home' ring out in her head the entire drive back to Regina's.

  
  


-

  
  


Henry is safe and asleep. Emma uselessly adjusts his blankets and smooths out his hair. She has an urge to kiss his forehead but doesn't have the courage, especially not with Regina watching her.

  
  


When the door clocks shut behind them, Regina and Emma lock eyes. Emma expects the living room, a neutral place where they can have a long conversation about feelings, and if she's is lucky she'll convince Regina that going on a date with her wouldn't be the worst option, considering that the eligible bachelors of Storybrooke include Constantly Drunk Leroy and Mr. Gold who just looks like his skin is probably super oily. Instead, Regina backs her up against a wall and presses her lips against Emma's.

  
  


Emma's had her fair share of kisses, but nothing on Earth that ever felt nearly as good as this. Regina's body is pressed firmly against her, and she's rubbing her fingertips along Emma's waist, and Emma feels shivers run up her spine and goosebumps run down her arms. She feels that sparking sensation, like something under her skin is trying to push its way out, reaching towards Regina. Her lips tingle and Emma Swan has never felt fuller.

  
  


Regina pulls away first, and whispers _w_ _e should talk._

  
  


Emma nods, and rests her head against Regina's shoulder. _Okay. I'll go first. I lied when I said I liked you. I'm actually so incredibly fucking in love with you I don't know what to do with myself. I'm so soggy for you I'm like, a walking flash flood warning._

  
  


Regina is silent for 10 racing heartbeats.

  
  


_Emma, I... care for you. Deeply. More than I thought I ever would again, after Henry, after..._ Regina worries at the hem of Emma's shirt. _I haven't loved well. I'm still learning, with Henry and maybe with... with you._

  
  


_It's okay if you can't say it back. If maybe you need a little time. Just don't..._ Emma ops for being direct, for being as honest as possible to the mother of her son, to the woman she's fucking crazy about.  _Just don't throw me away._

  
  


Regina cups her face. _No, Emma. I won't._

  
  


_-_

  
  


They end up in Regina's bed, fully clothed. It's initially filled with a lot more kissing than talking, but eventually Regina starts. She links their fingers and tells Emma, _There's a curse._

  
  


She starts with her mother, and eventually, quietly whispers a name. _Daniel._ As Regina talks, Emma clenches her jaw until she feels the formation of a stress headache. Never had Emma seen Regina as anything other than lethal. A predator magnanimously sparing the helpless prey around her. But now, Regina looks small, and vulnerable. She squeezes Regina's hand and caresses her jaw and her hair when Regina falters. Because Emma isn't alone anymore, and neither is Regina.

  
  


She tells her about Snow White and Prince Charming (her parents, Jesus fucking Christ), and about the cause of Graham's heart condition. ( _The curse is weakening,_ Regina said. _It already was, because of Henry, and then you...._ Regina hesitates forward and Emma closes the remaining distance, and they don't speak for a while). Regina tells her about Rumpelstiltskin ( _I knew it! That greasy weirdo!_ Emma hisses, and Regina is surprised out of her somber mood enough to laugh at Emma's outburst), and eventually, about the Evil Queen, and the price for casting the curse.

  
  


They remain quiet for a long while afterwards, just breathing and tender touches. Emma is the one who breaks the silence.

  
  


_So, what is it that I feel when we touch? Before you told me all this, I thought it was just... you know. Like they describe in the movies and books. I though it was just a side-effect of my feelings. But it's more than that, isn't it?_

  
  


Regina nods. _I've felt it too. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but... it's magic._

  
  


_Oh,_ Emma says, not understanding at all. _Like... Harry Potter magic or cheesy plant-playing-cards-in-your-wallet magic?_

  
  


Regina chuckles. _Both, I suppose. You're a child of true love. You were always going to be magical._

  
  


_Okay... so why does it only freak out when I'm around you? And I thought the whole deal was that this was a land without magic._

  
  


Regina fidgets, and quietly says, _True Love is the most powerful magic of all. It has the ability to transcend realms._

  
  


And oh. _Oh._

  
  


Emma fights a smile. _We don't have to talk about this anymore._

  
  


_Thank you._

  
  


Emma has a million questions, but Regina is stiff, so she allows herself to be silent. After Regina finally relaxes, after Emma goes about finally trying to kiss Regina breathless, Regina mumbles _I know you have more questions. You can ask._

  
  


_Just... how do we break it? The curse thing?_

  
  


_I... have some ideas. I never learned how to break it. I suppose I never assumed it would have to be._

  
  


_Okay..._ Emma hedges, _what aren't you saying?_

  
  


_I'm not ready,_ Regina answers. _I told you about me, about the Evil Queen. I've wronged people incredibly, Emma. Soon, but not yet._

  
  


_When you're ready,_ Emma whispers, and she loops a strand of hair around her fingers, _Henry and I will be with you. You won't be alone in this._

  
  


 

Regina smiles so brightly that Emma can't help herself. She leans in.

**Author's Note:**

> due to Technical Issues i ended up deleting everything. i regret it and will abstain from doing so in the future. if you wish to file a complaint please reconsider it long and hard because the author is soft, like a shell-less hermit crab.


End file.
